“I thought the storm was over, master,” said the little camel, not daring to lift his eyes towards the tent.
“Oh, it never stops,” the lazy voice went on. “It’s always there for other camels to get lost in the way you did. It’s always blowing just as hard as when you were in it, only you can’t hear it any more because the sand dervishes showed you the pathway between the winds.”
“Why were they so kind as to help me, O master?” asked the little camel respectfully, and the sleepy voice answered:—
“Probably because you admitted in that poem you made up yesterday that you were really very conceited and had made a fool of yourself with everybody you met. The herons and the flamingos gave a very bad report on you, but apparently you got a little more sensible later. If you manage to get through today without being childish, you ought to be having a nice champagne supper somewhere with your mother this evening.”
The little camel took another uncertain step towards the tent
The youngest camel felt a tremor of joy go through him at these words, and he felt himself strong enough now to resist any temptation that might come along. He almost jumped straight up into the air with delight, but his knees were so weak under him from lack of food and weariness that he decided not to make any unnecessary movements. Instead he called out in an enraptured voice:—
“Oh, I know I can get through today all right! I’m absolutely certain I’ll do everything the way I should!”
“You don’t know anything about it,” said the voice, and it sounded now as if its owner were stifling a yawn. “You mustn’t start out by being so sure of anything. Come in and pay reverence to me and I’ll explain things to you more fully. Come along in, don’t be bashful,” it said as the little camel hesitated and teetered on one foot near the open door. “All you have to do is pay homage to me and then you have nothing to fear.”
The little camel took another uncertain step towards the tent, and then he halted again and said:—